The Best Meal I Never Did Cook

The back door was propped open, but the wind just didn't want to push through the screen and offer relief on this warmer-than-average day in mid-June. Wait, hold that thought. It wasn't warm, it was hot and downright sticky like high noon in August, a classic summer day in D.C., and my jangled nerves only contributed to the sweat trickling down the small of my back.

There was a man coming for dinner, and I liked him. Shucks, just a few days earlier, I gave him a piece of my fried chicken, so I knew I wasn't imagining this thing I was feeling. But girl, it was all wrong. The boxes in the front part of the house, stacked on top of one another to the ceiling and waiting for their overseas shipping labels, told a different story. I was about to leave the country. And get married.

He wasn't exactly walking on solid ground, either, separated from his wife, wounded, cynical and considering the emotional salvation of a big-screen television and leather couch in a nondescript high-rise studio.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Let's just chalk it up to a harmless flirtation, a nice life-is-wonderful passing interlude and be on our way, shall we?

But I pressed on, and there were bananas and mangoes to prep, and the time was ticking much more quickly than I expected. Did I have time for a quick rinse in the shower? I poured a rum and tossed it back quickly.

He would be here in 20 minutes. I scanned my mise en place, and everything was indeed in place. (Well, everything in the kitchen.)

The sky began to darken, a sign that Mother Nature would soon offer some relief from the sultry heat, and then I heard the knock on the door.

There he was, looking as nervous and excited as I felt, and I pecked him on the cheek, leading him into the kitchen where I fixed him a drink, a Mount Gay and tonic with lime.

The sky began to rumble, and there was some nervous banter about the impending storm as he found a seat on the stool next to my work table. He asked about the ingredients lined up in their various prep bowls, and I obliged, giving him an overview of the dish I was about to prepare, but omitting the part about how it was kind of a test, to gauge his reaction not only to my cooking, but to the food of my heart. He had passed the fried chicken test, and now it was time for the mango, one of my top three all-time favorite foods (and, in my opinon, the secret to world peace). It would be a sultry melange of flavors, an island kind of thing, with bananas, rum, the heat of chiles and of course, the mango. If he didn't get this dish, I thought, he might not last, and then of course, I'd have my escape hatch and my steeple of boxes destined for the other side of the world and my so-called new life.

We slurped on our drinks, looking at each other tentatively,sizing the other up, and I remember ice clinking, and the wind picking up gusto, finally making its way indoors. I think I leaned in and kissed him first, but he'd probably argue it was the other way around.

Thunder and lightning ensued, literally and interbody-galatically. The mango-banana chicken would just have to wait. It would become one of the finest meals I never did cook.

And mango-banana chicken guy? Well, I decided he could stick around. And I decided to stick around, too.

Add tomato-banana mixture, cinnamon stick and coffee beans to the pan and cook over medium heat about five minutes. Stir in molasses or sugar.

Increase heat to high, add rum and ignite with a match. When flame dies out, add mango, return chicken to the pan and spoon sauce over the pieces. Cover, transfer to the oven and bake until cooked through, 10-15 minutes.

Kim, may we nominate you for Ms. Liz's Thursday List? I know that this isn't exactly a movie, but it's very romantic...

Posted by: Centre of Nowhere | February 14, 2008 1:58 PM

Wow. That is a great short story.

Posted by: md | February 14, 2008 2:05 PM

Sorry, Kim.... We have a HUGE difference of opinion. There's only ONE way to eat mango: Thai style, with sticky rice, laced with coconut cream.

Best mangoes? In India, Alfonsos are reckoned the best. I'm not particularly enthusiastic about the Hayden, the most common mango here in Hawaii, but the Golden Glow (a cross created I think by Dr Yee) is delish. The mangoes most to my taste were in Singapore (from Pakistan, I was told) and in Bangkok. Mangoes with a round cross-section rarely please me. I prefer the yellow varieties with a flattish cross section (the Filipina produce sellers at Maui Mall Shopping Center often have this style of mango, brought in from Mexico. I would expect them to be available in your neck of the woods.

My alltime favourite fruit: Lychees aka Instant Sex. Try them in a sweetsour chicken stirfry. I first had them this way in SF Chinatown aeons ago. Unforgettable.

Posted by: David Lewiston | February 14, 2008 2:26 PM

The day Matthew Shepard died, I decided being Out wasn't enough and found a local LGBT group that does a lot of community service work. At my first event (a happy hour to introduce new members) I met Dave. On our first date, I went to his place to make dinner for two... I had to bring tools and stuff as his kitchen was BARE. That was more than 9 year

Posted by: Dennis in Arlington | February 14, 2008 4:49 PM

part 2... and I've been cooking him dinner ever since.

Posted by: Dennis in Arlington | February 14, 2008 6:42 PM

wherefore the Kahlua??

Posted by: spence | February 16, 2008 12:41 AM

Spence, thanks for the catch. You add it at the end after you've removed the chicken and you've just brought sauce up to a boil. I'll add these notes in the recipe right now. And by the way, if you don't add the Kahlua, it's okay. The dish is still tasty (yes, I've actually made it before!)

Posted by: Kim O'Donnel | February 16, 2008 10:31 AM

There's only one way to cook with mango? That's like saying there's only one way to make love!